


The Chair

by asilentherald



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asilentherald/pseuds/asilentherald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin stands by the round table, not having sat there since the first time Arthur employed one all those years ago – but not for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chair

**Author's Note:**

> Basically I came across a post on tumblr (emrystiel.tumblr.com/post/96023063717/lonelytwoleggedcreatures), was baffled once more by the fact that Merlin so blatantly didn't have a place at the round table in season 5, and channeled my anger by writing this ficlet. Grr.

Merlin yawns loudly. Arthur turns around and glares at him from the round table. Merlin offers what he hopes is an apologetic look; he rolls his eyes and turns back around, returning his attention to the report Leon is giving.

He yawns again and shifts his weight from leg to leg. He makes a note to get a pain remedy from Gaius for his back, which is still sensitive after Arthur whacked him too hard during practice the other day.

The council recesses a few minutes later. Arthur stalks up to him, leaving a grinning Gwen to chat with Leon and the other knights.

“Perhaps you should go take a nap, Merlin,” he says in a low voice. “It sounded like you might drop off there.”

“Sorry,” he says. “Gets a bit tiring standing around for so long.”

“Then maybe—”

“Look, I’ve done all my chores already,” Merlin says hurriedly. “I want to stay for the rest of the session.”

“That’s not what I wanted to say,” Arthur scowls. He pauses, then calls, “Gwen? Come here a moment.”

She’s beside them in a flash of red velvet and blinding smiles.

“Merlin, tell me he’s not being unkind again.”

“When is he not?”

“Guinevere,” Arthur cuts in, making them both giggle and Arthur huff loudly, “I had a quite brilliant idea.”

“All your ideas are brilliant, my lord,” she smirks. Merlin laughs brightly. Arthur glares at him but offers her a doting smile, as always. Merlin only snickers more.

“What’s this idea, Arthur?”

“I was thinking we should finally put Merlin out of his misery,” Arthur says. Merlin ceases laughing abruptly.

“What? What do you mean?”

He turns to Gwen, but instead of reprimanding Arthur as he hoped she’d do, she’s beaming.

“I’ll go call for it.”

She’s off again, her gown billowing just as vividly as the capes on the knights who follow her.

Merlin, however, thinks he’s about to explode, or hyperventilate. Or both. It’d be more efficient.

“Arthur,” he starts.

He looks at him and bursts out laughing.

“Don’t look so worried, Merlin. It really is a brilliant idea,” he says. The knights in the room seem much more restless than usual all of a sudden.

“If you don’t want me to listen in, I can go; you don’t need to make a public spectacle of it. Only don’t put me in the stocks. My back’s going bad and I don’t think I could take standing like that all day and getting pummeled by rotten fruit on top of—”

“Will you shut up already? Take a look.”

The doors open. Gwen walks in with her back straight, her neck long, all grace and regality, as though this were an official procession, followed by two grinning knights – Gwaine and Percival, in fact – carrying a chair identical to the ones already at the round table. The knights by their chairs make space for it. They place the new chair and go to their seats.

Merlin’s still not quite sure what’s going on.

“Let’s get back to work,” Arthur says. He goes to his place as well and the knights take their seats. Gwen as always takes her place on Arthur’s left, but the space on the right where no specific knight sits remains open.

Arthur clears his throat.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

Arthur looks over his shoulder and nods at the empty space. He looks up at Merlin expectantly.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now sit down. We have a lot of work to do.”

Merlin’s skin burns under the watch of every knight at the round table as he pulls the chair out with a slight screech. Gwaine snorts. Merlin quickly slides into the seat and promptly bangs his elbow against the table hard enough to make it shake.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. Merlin grins sheepishly at the others at the table. Some seem genuinely confused, but most are amused as well.

“It’s fine,” Leon says on Merlin’s other side. “We’ve all done it. The table’s an awkward height.”

Merlin’s praising Leon to the high heavens in his head.

Arthur clears his throat again. The knights settle down.

“Let’s get started. Merlin, will you report on the medical supply deliveries we’ll need to make before the winter sets in?” Arthur asks, taking Merlin by surprise.

“Er, sure. Sire,” he adds.

Merlin begins, and the knights quickly pay rapt attention to him, even the ones who regarded him poorly when he first took the seat. His voice grows steadier as he settles into what he knows to be _his_ place and, going by the small, proud smile Arthur’s trying to hide, his king knows to be his as well.

“Told you it was a brilliant idea,” he whispers to Merlin when he’s finished speaking.

“I suppose miracles can happen, my lord.”

“Merlin?”

“Shut up?”

“You guessed it.”


End file.
